


To Keep

by elementalv



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, First Time, M/M, Spoilers, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-07
Updated: 2010-11-07
Packaged: 2017-10-13 02:49:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/131994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elementalv/pseuds/elementalv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam needs, Dean gives.</p><p>Spoilers through 6.07.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Keep

Dean’s been trying to get a hold of Cas for two hours straight when he catches sight of Sam getting ready to leave.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he asks.

“Going out,” Sam answers, as if just that afternoon, he and Dean hadn’t had a long talk about what Sam was and was not allowed to do.

“No,” Dean says. “You’re not.”

“Yes.” Sam finishes putting on his coat and adds, “I am.”

“We talked about this.”

“We talked about me not hunting, and I’m not.” Sam stops at the mirror and checks himself out with a slight frown.

“Then why are you going out?”

Sam shrugs. “Get a hooker.”

There’s so much wrong with that statement that Dean hardly knows where to begin, so he states the obvious. “You don’t get hookers. You find the nerdiest chick in the room and make cow eyes at her while you talk about the deeper meaning to be found in Salinger’s work, which, by the way, is bullshit. There’s not an inch of depth to be found his shit, and I can’t believe I’m arguing literature with you.”

Sam gives him a slight smile. “Whatever. I want to get laid.”

“Whatever,” Dean echoes, “you’re shit out of luck, because you’re not leaving this room.”

“Why not?” He asks it like he’s mildly curious, which, again, is just wrong.

“No instincts, remember? I can’t trust you out there, so you’re just going to have to get reacquainted with your right hand.”

Sam doesn’t get angry, he just sighs a little and takes off his coat. Dean nods approvingly and closes his eyes to try Cas again. And yeah, he feels like a complete dick trying to ask for a favor, especially since Cas is apparently a general in a civil war, but Dean can’t help himself. Sam is kind of freaky, even more so now that Dean knows he willingly goes for hookers, and Dean wants — He blinks his eyes a few times as he opens them, because he could have sworn he heard —

“Dude!” Dean covers his eyes again, because the last thing he needs or wants to see is his baby brother buck-naked. “What the fuck?”

Sam steps close enough that Dean can get a whiff of the musk coming off his junk. He puts his hands on Dean’s shoulders then gathers the t-shirt material in both hands and tugs upward.

“You told me I couldn’t go out to get laid.”

“I told you to jerk off.”

“I want sex, Dean,” Sam says. “And since you won’t let me go out, I have to have it here.”

He’s kind of relentless about getting Dean’s t-shirt off. In fact, he’s pulling so hard, Dean’s choices are to raise his arms or let Sam rip it off him, which isn’t going to happen, because he loves this shirt. There’s actually a third choice, but it involves wrestling Sam to the ground. Since Sam is currently naked, Dean doesn’t see it as a viable option. He sighs heavily and lifts his arms, even as he keeps his eyes shut tight.

“God _damn_ it,” Dean says, as the t-shirt catches on his nose, and he can’t even reach down to uncatch it.

“Sorry,” Sam says, sounding anything but, especially since he leaves Dean tangled up in the t-shirt and decides that playing with Dean’s nipples is next on the agenda.

Dean flinches away, partly because his _brother_ is fondling him, but mostly because it tickles, and there’s no way in hell he’s letting Sam win just because he can’t stop laughing long enough to say no.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

He’s sorted himself out enough to be able to get his shirt the rest of the way off, and when he does, he reluctantly opens his eyes to see the expression on Sam’s face. Expecting to see the look of a remorseless bastard, he’s surprised that Sam’s face shows vague curiosity and determination and _want_. And okay, that wasn’t really something Dean expected to see. He’d think about it some more, but just then, Sam’s cock, hard and a little wet at the tip, bumps him in the nose and leaves a smear of — _gross_.

Before he can bitch about it, Sam says, “I told you. I want to have sex.”

“And that’s so important that you’re ready to molest me for it?”

Sam blinks and says, “Yeah,” as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world.

“Dude! Do the words incest and taboo mean a goddamn thing to you?”

More than anything, Dean wants to bat Sam away, but that means possibly touching Sam’s dick, and Dean’s not ready to go there yet. It shocks him a little to realize that he thinks he’ll be ready later on but not enough to distract him from getting Sam to back the fuck off.

“They’re words. I can give you the definitions the next time I go online, if you like.”

Sam frowns at Dean then hauls him off the bed like he weighs nothing. No surprise there, considering the muscles Sam has built up over the years. What _is_ a surprise is the way Sam kisses him, soft and sweet and filled with a longing Dean didn’t think he was capable of, not without a soul anyway. Sam seems to pour everything he can into the kiss, and even though it shouldn’t, it manages to take Dean apart, one objection at a time, until Dean isn’t just standing there taking it but yanking Sam’s head down to get a better angle.

And Christ, it feels good to be holding Sam like this, like there’s nothing else in the world more important than what’s going on right here and now. The only fly in the ointment is that Sam is his brother, and Dean can’t quite ignore that, no matter how good it feels to have Sam close again. Dean also can’t ignore the fact that the only clue he has that Sam is even remotely affected by what they’re doing is that his hard-on is poking Dean in the stomach. Other than that, Sam could be thinking about football for all Dean can tell.

He breaks off the kiss, breathing a little heavier than he’d like, and says, “Sam —”

“Dean,” Sam says, “I know. Okay? I know this is messed up, and that it’s not normal, not even for us.”

“But?”

Because there has to be a “but.” People like him and Sam can’t ever get away with a conversation like this unless there’s a “but” involved. Dean tries to get some space between them, but Sam isn’t having any of that. He keeps Dean right where he wants him and says, “The only time I feel close to normal is when I’m having sex.”

Of course.

It’s not like Dean expected anything better from Sam, not after all these years. Sam seems to think Dean will always be there, no matter what, and that he’ll pull Sam’s fat out of the fire every time. In a rare moment of introspection, it occurs to Dean that he’s never done all that much to convince Sam otherwise, so it really shouldn’t be that much of a surprise that Sam is willing to accept him as a substitute for hookers.

Dean tries to swallow down the bitterness and says, “That’s why the hookers.”

“That’s why,” he answers quietly.

Dean sighs heavily and says, “Yeah. Okay. Fine. You want a hooker, go for it.”

“Yeah, no,” Sam says.

“Excuse me?” Dean tries to push against the brick wall masquerading as his brother, and that works about as well as he expected it to. He thinks about kneeing Sam in the nuts, but he doesn’t think it’s at that point. Yet.

“Hookers aren’t going to do it for me anymore, I don’t think.” Sam looks at Dean kind of like he’s the main course and adds, “Not after that kiss.”

Sam pulls Dean in for another one of those kisses, and if anything, it hits Dean even harder than the first one did. He feels Sam’s hands cup the back of his head half a second before Sam moves his head for a better angle. It shouldn’t be like this, Dean thinks, even as he starts to lose himself in his brother’s taste and scent. Sam shouldn’t be able to do this to him, take every single one of his objections and turn them to dust before Dean even has a chance to figure out what they are. Instead, he’s hanging on to Sam’s shoulders like he’ll drop straight into Hell if he doesn’t.

And maybe he will, because this? This is wrong. Dean is sure of it, and he’s so sure of it that he can’t even figure out why it’s suddenly up for discussion. It shouldn’t be, but Dean is in Sam’s arms, and for the first time since before Dean went to Hell, he feels like he has his brother back and with him. It’s fucked up beyond all recognition, but Dean can’t find it in him to care. For a brief moment, he wonders if Sam laid a whammy on him, but he dismisses the idea. RoboSam may be soulless, but he isn’t actively evil. Just kind of messed up.

With one last kiss, Sam lets Dean go and says, “When I kiss you, I almost feel normal. More so than with a hooker.”

There had been a moment when Dean could have said no, but it was lost with that one statement. After a long look into Sam’s eyes, Dean slowly reaches down to unbuckle his belt, and Sam is right there, unbuttoning his jeans and pulling down the zipper. Between the two of them, they get Dean naked without too much trouble, and once Dean is on the bed again and scooting back toward the headboard, he says, “You drive tonight, okay? Take what you need.”

Sam’s eyes, already dark in the shitty light of the hotel room, go a little darker still as he crawls up from the foot of the bed. He lowers himself slowly, rubbing his dick on Dean’s stomach, and then gives Dean another one of those kisses. Dean doesn’t even try to fight against the drugged feeling he gets when Sam’s mouth opens up. He just opens his own mouth and tries to tell Sam everything that happened to him since Sam went to Hell. He tries to explain that he knows he hasn’t been the best brother in the world, but that he’s trying, and he’ll always try.

For his part, Sam doesn’t seem to be all that interested in what Dean has to say. He’s too busy mapping out as much of Dean’s body as he can with his hands. After a moment, he adds lips and tongue to the recon mission, and Dean just lies there, trying to get his head around this. He needs to, he knows that, and he needs to do it damn quick, because there’s no way in hell he’s letting Sam hold onto this thing without any help from Dean. As he thinks about it, though, he realizes that Sam probably won’t give a shit one way or another, which means it’s twice as important that Dean get his head into the game, and that he do it right the fuck now.

Sam isn’t paying too much attention beyond Dean’s left nipple, so it’s pretty easy for Dean to hook his leg around Sam’s hip just right and flip the two of them so that Dean is the one looking down. Sam gives him a slight smile and telegraphs the hell out of his next move, but Dean puts his fingers to Sam’s lips, shushing him like he used to when they were kids.

“Let me,” he whispers.

“Thought you wanted me to drive,” Sam says from behind Dean’s fingers.

“Yeah.” Dean swallows hard. “I do. I just — I want — just —”

Sam takes pity on him and nods, and with that permission, Dean goes on a little recon of his own. He’s watched Sam grow from a gawky sixteen-year-old to — and he didn’t know this was possible — an even gawkier twenty-two-year-old. It’s only the last couple, three years that Sam has bulked out enough to make him look less like a sapling and more like some kind of freaking god of physical fitness. Dean has never seen muscles as cut as Sam’s are, and he can’t take his hands off the grooves and curves that define Sam’s muscles. He trails his hand along Sam’s six-pack and notes which spots make Sam’s skin twitch, make Sam’s dick jump, and he thinks he should take care to remember those spots, because Dean is pretty sure they’re going to be doing this again.

“Dean.” Sam takes Dean’s hand, pushes it down to his dick.

As hints go, it’s a pretty damn big one, and Dean hesitates only a moment before he wraps his hand around Sam’s dick. It’s weird, holding another guy’s dick, because muscle memory insists that Dean should be feeling the tug on his own dick, should be pushing into the squeeze the way Sam is, should be moaning a little at the way his thumb brushes over the slit and gathers some of the fluid that’s leaking out. He doesn’t feel it though, except in his memories and the way Sam is starting to fall apart beneath him.

For a moment, Dean thinks that maybe this is all Sam will need, Dean’s hand on him instead of his own, but then Sam gives him a sharp look before wrapping his own hand around Dean’s dick, and Christ, that feels good. Sam is mirroring Dean’s movements exactly, and Dean experiences the same confusion for a moment, but then Sam lets go of Dean’s dick and snakes his hand back behind Dean’s balls.

He’s fingering Dean’s asshole when he asks, “You want to get the lube, or you want me to?”

Dean’s hand closes tight around Sam’s dick at that, and Sam lets out a surprised grunt. It’s enough for Dean to let go of him, to drop back to Sam’s side. “You get it. I don’t have any.”

Sam drops a kiss on Dean’s lips before reaching down on the other side of his bed. It doesn’t take long for him to come back with a small bottle and condoms. Dean’s mouth dries up at the sight of both, and he says, “Sammy —”

“You’ll let me, won’t you?” Sam looks lost and a little worried.

“Yeah. It’s just — I’ve never — you know.”

Sam frowns. “Never what?”

“Never —” Dean swallows hard. “No one’s ever fucked me, okay? So just — you know — just —”

If Sam were in his right mind, he wouldn’t have to ask, “Just what?”

Then again, if Sam were in his right mind, or at least had his soul, Dean is pretty sure they wouldn’t be doing this.

“Be careful, okay?”

“Idiot,” Sam says, a look of vague fondness on his face. “If I’m not, you won’t do this with me again, right?”

Somehow, that’s even more of a gut punch than what Sam’s been doing for the last ten minutes, knowing that the only reason Sam cares about being careful is to make sure Dean is willing in the future. On the other hand, it makes sense, and as sick as Dean is at the thought of Sam existing in that particular headspace, he leaves it alone.

“Yeah. Right,” Dean says, his voice failing him on the second word.

As if that’s his cue, Sam stops talking and starts pulling apart everything Dean thought he knew about himself. He tries to think, tries to pay attention to what Sam is doing so that next time — and there _will_ be a next time, no matter how this turns out, because Dean can’t stand the thought of Sam being out in the cold the way he has been — so that next time, Dean can be better for him. It’s not a bad plan, but it gets blown away pretty much the second Sam wraps his lips around Dean’s dick and pushes a slick finger into his ass. The one feels great, the other, not so much, but it doesn’t take long for Dean to get with Sam’s program, because Sam surely knows what the hell he’s doing. For a brief moment, Dean gets pissed about that, and then Sam crooks his finger just so, and Dean is shouting, “Jesus fuck, do that again.”

Sam smiles. It’s the first real smile Dean has seen from him in more than a year, and as desperately glad as he is to see it, he wishes it weren’t at the cost of their history together. Sam does that thing again, and Dean lets go for good, loses himself in the pure animal pleasure Sam is giving him. He’ll probably pay for this in the morning, when he gets hit with the guilt, but for now, Sam is happy, and Dean is falling apart in the best possible way.

It’s not long before Sam is putting a condom on and settling himself between Dean’s legs, and that’s fine with Dean. If he’d known how good it could feel to have something up his ass, he would have been doing this years ago, so he’s pretty damn pushy about getting Sam’s dick inside him. Fortunately, Sam is pretty much on the same page, and while he’s a little careful, he doesn’t exactly waste time pushing into Dean, and at that moment of connection between them, he sees it on Sam’s face, sees what’s happening to his soul in Hell.

Dean doesn’t know how that’s possible, but he doesn’t stop to think too closely, either. He wants to help Sam feel good, help his soul feel a little ease and comfort, and Dean tugs on Sam to kiss him, even as he starts moving his hips to encourage Sam. After a brief pause, Sam starts thrusting, ignoring the fact that Dean is licking tears off his face.

It’s hard to say if Sam’s soul can hear him or not, but Dean tries anyway, and says, “It’s okay, Sammy. I got you. We’ll get you out of there. I promise. God. If I’d known, if you’d told me sooner. I’m so sorry. I want you to know, you won’t be down there much longer. We’ll get you out. I’m sorry, I’m so goddamn sorry.”

After that, it doesn’t take long for Sam to come. Dean doesn’t, but that’s not really a surprise. He went soft the moment he saw the look on Sam’s face, and he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to get hard for him again. Doesn’t much matter, though, because this isn’t really about Dean.

Sam pulls out carefully, and as soon as he’s clear, that connection is gone. It doesn’t seem to affect Sam too much, other than some confusion about what just happened. He looks at Dean’s dick and says, “You didn’t come.”

Dean tries to pass it off with, “Like I said — first time.”

“Yeah, but —” Sam looks worried.

“Next time, Sammy. Next time.” The answer reassures Sam, and he relaxes at the promise, even as he stands up to get rid of the condom.

Dean is already under the covers when Sam returns from the bathroom, and he says, “Come to bed with me, would you?”

“I don’t really sleep.”

“Yeah, screw that. Get under here.”

Sam shrugs and gets into bed with Dean. He tolerates Dean pulling him close and Dean thinks about the promises he made and whether or not he’ll be able to keep them. Now that Sam isn’t actually fucking Dean, he’s back that uncomfortable neutrality, and Dean worries about his soul, thinks if he could figure out a way to do it, he’d have Sam in him more or less permanently. Or at least until he gets his own soul back.

After an hour, Dean falls into an uneasy sleep with Sam’s head resting on his shoulder. His last thought before drifting off is to wonder if Sam’s soul got any comfort at all.


End file.
